Cruelest Cat and Mouse Game
by Terrorking Tragedian
Summary: An innocent soul has been abducted by an evil man! The police are helpless, old hatreds return with vengeance and a long forgotten conflict comes back to haunt everyone! How long will Miley Stewart last? My greatest action-packed crime/drama story yet!
1. In the dead of night

This story is inspired by a movie trailer of the Hong Kong movie Kidnap. Plot being completely original, this thriller is not unlike all my other works. Some people will happen to notice another story of mine titled Don't Talk to Strangers looks incredibly similar to this first chapter. As I explained in the intro of the other story, Don't Talk to Strangers was supposed to be an attempted remake of this story because I thought this one was not satisfactory. I abandoned this story to write it again. Later I decided this story should stay, and that Don't Talk to Strangers should be a story on its own. Therefore I made major modifications to both in order to change the plot. Some fine details, however, cannot be removed. Hence they look quite similar; the other story was supposed to be a more successful clone of this one.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hannah Montana.

--

It was a dark night. The howling wind blew across the park, whipping my face hard and chilling every part of my body. The cold gale rustled up the leaves, shaking whole trees and branches like wind chimes. The grasses and dead leaves on the ground were sucked into the violent dance of the frigid winds. The park was eerily devoid of life, and apart from the cacophony of the gale, all else was silent.

I shuddered violently and pulled my wind coat tighter around me. A storm approached, and I had to get home before it started to rain. But when your mind gets desperate, things become impossible to accomplish. As I was hurrying off home both to get out of this chilling wind and not to make Dad worried, the park became an unsolvable maze. Soon I found myself lost in it.

It was the end of a party at Jake's temporary apartment. He invited basically everyone at school to go, and I was his guest star at the party. We danced, chatted and ate joyfully that night. Lilly and Oliver also had a great time: Lilly got hooked up with some guy from Spanish class, and Oliver spent the majority of his time pigging himself at the food table. Jake had offered to give me a ride back home, but concerned about my personal security I openly refused and told him I would walk back home through the park instead. Somehow, I felt like leaving the party before most people did, and vanished before Jake, Lilly or Oliver noticed.

I quietly cursed myself for leaving without Lilly and Oliver, with a dead cell phone battery to boot. I was lost in this damned park, which I never fathomed just how big it was. The temperature was blood-freezing low, the place was completely empty except for trees and stuff you see lying around the park and the sheer eeriness was starting to make my skin crawl. I mumbled a soft plea to Dad, hoping he would come and rescue me, but after a half-hour of fruitless wandering in the maze, I lost hope of ever returning home before the storm and began to consider taking cover under some tree upon feeling the minutest of raindrops.

The place was far scarier than I ever imagined in the darkness of night.

Yet even as I contemplated sleeping in the park until dawn broke, I heard a voice carry along with the merciless wind beating at all parts of my body. Was it a voice? Or was it the wind playing tricks on me? Curiosity piqued, I began to investigate, hopeful for someone to direct me out of here.

Not far from where I stood a few minutes ago, I saw a little man half-sitting, half-squatting on a dark red wooden bench, clad in dirty rags. He was mumbling broodingly to himself as if he bore a hundred grudges, arms folded, protecting himself from the treacherous whipping gale. Feeling a little sorry for the man, but having no desire to stay in this park for more than a minute longer, I made my way towards him.

However, as I approached him, I felt a dark coldness not related to the wind fill the air thickly. If possible, the temperature in the air plummeted further to sub-zero. An ominous feeling sprung up in my stomach; what if he was a bad guy? Daddy (and Mommy) told me many times not to talk to strangers. I always thought that as a teenager, that was kids' advice.

Still, I wanted to go home. Plucking up my courage, I walked up to his side. I whispered to him in a nervous trembling voice, "Excuse me, sir?" to alert him of my presence. He was nonetheless startled.

He turned his head sharply and fixed a sharp stare into my eyes. I shuddered at the look he gave me. His actions were slow and menacing as he got off the bench and drew himself to full height. Immediately I learned that he was bigger than I thought as I spotted him moments ago.

"What d'you want, girlie?" He asked frigidly. I shivered.

"I was kind of, well, lost...and, I'm hoping if you could...direct me out of this park..." I answered querulously. Butterflies began dancing in my stomach, as if they had seen a premonition and are trying to warning me.

"And I should care because?" He replied in cold indifference. I regretted walking up to him instantly.

"Sorry to bother you, sir..." I trailed awkwardly, thinking whether I should run or walk away from him. My feet were rooted to the pavement.

"Hmph! Sorry! That's all you can say, eh? For disturbing me?"

"I'm really sorry. I'll be on my way." I made to turn around, but my feet were stuck to the ground, immovable.

I noticed something curious. Despite his nonchalant words, I saw that he was scrutinizing me intensely. I backed away from him hastily as he took a step forward, my heart missing a beat. The butterflies in my stomach were positively zooming around my gut now.

"You're Robby Ray Stewart's girl." He whispered, wide-eyed. I stared back in shock; how did he identify me?

"Yes...?" I replied uncertainly.

His voice was curious at one moment, and then the next, burning with fury. I gasped audibly in alarm as he took another step forward, this one full of intimidation, his breath on fire. I did not understand why someone would react this way to a question, nor did I know why he knew my Dad.

"I've seen you! I recognise you! You're that bastard's daughter!" He growled.

"I'm very sorry." I said in a simple would-be-calm way, but inside, I was scared beyond my wits. I was also very mystified and confused.

"Do you think a simple "sorry" is going to earn you my forgiveness? You little whore?" The man snarled. My feet finally felt mobile.

I turned around and walked away hurriedly, sensing cold sweat trickling down my brows. The pressure in the air lifted suddenly; it was quite a relief to escape from that mysterious stranger who somehow recognise me and knew Daddy's name. I breathed in deeply to calm myself down, hoping the rustling sound of leaves coming from behind were not footsteps. I wrapped my shaking frozen hands around me and whispered reassuringly to myself, "It's alright, Miley. It's just a park. There's nothing to be afraid of."

I thought it was a relief.

It was relief too soon.

--

For suddenly I felt rough hand snatch my shoulder roughly the same way terror gripped my heart. I felt a jolt of horror shake my whole body as I gasped in alarm. My heart stopped beating for a few seconds, and I forgot how to breathe, when I realised that the hand on my shoulder belonged to the stranger.

"You're not going anywhere, little girl."

In a blink of an eye, he seized me with his strong iron-grip hands and began to strangle me. Panic flooded my senses as I screamed in horror, struggling against the man's attack.

"AAAAAAAHHH!"

"Save your breath, girlie! You're coming with me!" He bellowed, strengthening his vice grip around my neck.

"STOP! STOP! HELP!!" I screamed desperately, kicking and punching every part of him that I can reach in retaliation. I feared the worst, thinking he was going to violate me.

"NO ONE'S GONNA HEAR YOU!" He bellowed maniacally.

"HEEEEEELLP! HEEEEEELP!"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP OR I'LL KILL YOU!"

"LET ME GO! HEEEEEEELP!"

I writhed like a fish and through sheer desperation and intense fear, all fatigue left my body and mind. I yanked my leg randomly; somehow my foot connected with his groin. He howled in agony and released his iron grip on me. Immediately, I darted away from this dangerous fiend. Panic flooded my mind, and I had only one goal in my head at that moment; to get away from this madman. My cries of help reaching the storm clouds above as I flew away from him. In this state of wild confusion, I managed to find the exit of the park, and without hesitation charged right out of it, the monster in hot pursuit.

"COME BACK HERE!!"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

No sooner after I took off had he caught up to me on the pavement, tackling me onto the ground and pinning my arms behind me. I thrashed wildly in utmost terror, fearing whether my throat might be torn asunder if I screamed more. He moved his face close to mine – a mistake on his part, for in blind fear, I smashed my skull against his jaw. The blow caused him to reel back in pain once more, releasing me from his shackles. In an instant, I got up and tore down the street, hoping I would get a good distance away from him before he recovered.

"AAARRGH! You're gonna pay for this, little girl!" He yelled from twenty feet away and got up to continue the pursuit.

I lost track of time. I had no other intention but to return to Daddy's side and get away from this maniac. All I cared about was running. I never even thought about hiding and shaking him off my trail.

The door of my house! Now I can get help! Daddy, help me!!

My heart was going into hyper-drive. My burning lungs threatened to burst and give in, and my legs began to cramp up from the sudden flight. I was at the foot of the hill...ten yards from the door...just a few feet...a few feet more...

Two hands roughly gripped my shoulders and pulled me back. In horror, I saw myself being pulled away from the door fast, making a futile attempt to struggle against my captor. Abandoning all calm, I frantically screamed into the air, "DADDY! HELP! DADDYYY!!"

Breathing heavily, my captor subdued me, pinning me on the ground roughly. He then knocked me over the head with something that looked like an iron bar. Not willing to give in to him, I increased the volume in my desperate and terrified cries.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

"SHUT UP!"

My ear-splitting scream was interrupted when he stuffed a handkerchief soaked with chloroform into my open mouth. Almost immediately I felt myself weaken; my eyelids grew heavy; my legs stopped kicking; and my whole body sagged down towards the earth. The merciless man kept his grip on me, and the last thing I remembered before darkness overcame my senses was an evil laugh of triumph, and me being hoisted on his shoulders…

Somewhere above me there was a ringing of maniacal laughter. Shadowy curtains closed before my eyes; my brain went numb; and I fell down an endless bottomless pit...

--

That ends chapter one. And in case anyone did not get the picture just now, she was inches from the door until she was wrestled away from it and doped by chloroform. The bad guy dragged her away just as she fell to oblivion. That marks the beginning of a thriller. I hope I manage to do well for this story. Please tell me what you think and kindly state your favourite part of the chapter. Thank you. Chapter 2 will be up tomorrow.

Terrorking Tragedian


	2. Investigations begin

Second chapter coming right up! Now the world will feel my sadistic nature! After reading up on several crime stories on serial killers and such, I received a sudden stroke of inspiration. Now not only do I know how this story should look like when summarized, I can also describe every scene graphically, having temporarily defeated my writer's block. The only thing that slows me down now is my failing health, and I do beg your pardon if I do not update fast enough.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana.

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The newspapers screamed their headlines, "GIRL GOES MISSING", and every news channel broke the news to the public as a young teenage girl mysteriously disappeared. Such a case has never been seen in Malibu for more than a decade, and so naturally this became big news.

The distressed father of Miley Stewart, Robby Ray Stewart, evidently noticed the absence of his daughter upon daybreak, and called the police first thing. Thanks to his timely actions, we were able to begin conducting investigation by noon.

The police officers ran investigations everywhere they went. There were a million possibilities as to why Miley Stewart mysteriously vanished. It could have been a case of a teenage runaway, kidnap, or something unexplainable. Nevertheless, the fact remained that Miley definitely disappeared last night, according to Jake Ryan as he was interrogated by the police officers.

"Well, she was at my party last night, and after offering to give her a lift home, she refused and...I haven't seen her ever since."

"And do you know where did she go after – according to you – leaving early from your party?"

"No, officer. But I think to get to her house, you need to pass through the park."

"What are you trying to say, Mr. Ryan?"

"You should try the park for clues."

Jake Ryan seemed to be very eager to help in the investigations. He also seemed very tense about the situation. Apparently, he was very worried about Miley. Well, we can cross him off the suspect list.

Miley Stewart's best friends, Lilly Truscott and Oliver Oken were at the party as well, and like Jake, they had no clue what happened to Miley. According to Lilly, she "disappeared in the middle of the party and has never been seen since." Oliver wondered whether anyone ever saw her leave the party at all.

All these clues obtained from the people who were present at the party indicated that Miley's departure was sudden and unnoticed. This was very puzzling. The park has been searched, and so far we've found no witnesses, no signs, no anything.

Soon the sun was coming down. Unless we hurry this up, we may not recover her alive. While the police forces all over Malibu and beyond began searching for clues, I was placed in charge of this whole operation.

Me. Detective Cyrus Bruckner, chief executive of the police department in Malibu, California. They call me "The Seeker" because I always catch the man I'm after. Only this time, it was not a criminal I'm after, but a missing teenager. I highly suspected kidnap, but it I cannot make such a hasty judgment without solid proof. And because this sort of case has not happened in Malibu for more than a decade, I was hesitant to put forth my theories.

Thankfully, a man who claimed to have witnessed an assault stepped forward to help. He told us how a poorly-clad man viciously attacked and pursued a girl wearing a pink top with an elaborately decorated pink jacket, and a similarly colour-themed miniskirt. The girl ran for her life, screaming, as the man followed hot on her tracks. The scene was witnessed at a nearly empty road, with no cars and people at the time.

This was a breakthrough. Jake Ryan remembered the clothes Miley wore for the party, and they matched the description the witness provided. Now we are getting close to ruling out all theories save kidnap.

Unfortunately, there was no solid evidence to even guess who the attacker was last night. He left no marks anywhere, and we found no clues regarding this man's identity. All so mysterious, this was.

At 8 pm, I paid the Stewarts a visit. I knocked three times on the door, wondering what to say to them.

"Who's that?" A deep male's voice rang from behind the door.

"Detective Cyrus Bruckner, lead investigator."

The door opened, and I was beckoned in.

The Stewarts, Robby Ray and the first son Jackson, were kept company by Lilly Truscott and Oliver Oken. A sense of foreboding permeated the air like fog, and an uncomfortable silence reigned in the living room. The four of them were evidently distressed and anxious as they watched the eight o'clock news.

"Police all over Malibu began investigation at noon today, and so far were able to make several breakthroughs to the mysterious disappearance of Miley Stewart. The files are kept confidential, but the police requested all those who saw suspicious activity last night from approximately 9 to 11 pm."

"This dang newscaster is maddeningly unhelpful." Robby remarked from the couch.

I explained to them that there was clearly a struggle and an abduction, though by whom we're still working on it. The lack of witnesses made the case very difficult, but I tried to reassure them that everything will be figured out as soon as we know exactly what happened that night.

"Did you guys happen to notice anything at all last night?" I asked the pointless question with a sigh.

"No, but heck I swore I heard a ghost scream that woke me up last night in the woods over there." Robby replied in an offhand voice. I however, whipped around sharply.

"Say what?"

"Oh, you know, last night I woke up, and I thought it was my alarm clock but then it was more like a sort of scream that seemed to...have come...those trees..." Robby's voice trailed away as he slowly comprehended the situation.

I pulled out my walkie talkie, and barked an order into it.

"Officer Bruckner, requesting reinforcements at Stewart Residence immediately!"

**Meanwhile, 9 O'clock at night in the middle of nowhere...Miley begins to stir...**

My head felt like it weighed a million tons. My vision was foggy, and my mind was very muddled. As I slowly began to rouse, a thought came into my woozy head, "What happened?"

I snapped my eyes open and to my horror, I discovered myself sitting on a stone floor, leaning against a dirty wall in some sort of derelict old house, my wrists tied behind my back, ankles bound together with rope. The floor was filthy and dusty; it was like as if no one lived in here for a long time.

My stomach turned into ice as comprehension dawned upon me.

I struggled futilely against the shackles, eyes opening wide in terror. Lord, why is this happening to me? Why did these ropes have to be so darn tight? And, ow! My wrists hurt!

"Grrr..."

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you, love."

A moving shadow emerged dimly ten paces away from me. I gasped audibly, absolutely terrified.

"'Ello, lassie."

The man who attacked me, my captor, appeared from out of the shadows suddenly. His hair was matted with clotted blood, his haggard appearance was intimidating, and his voice possessed an ice-cold quality. He took a few steps forward and laughed as I recoiled away from him in fear.

"Scared, now, aren't yer, lassie?"

I backed away against the wall, trying to flatten myself against it as much as I can. My hands were tied behind my back and my ankles were bound tightly as well. I was hopelessly defenseless. Watching him with pure terror in my grey eyes, I tried to make myself as small as possible.

He made a false lunge forward; with a scream, I backed away from him till I was stuck in a corner. I brought my knees to my chest and tried to disappear away, shaking uncontrollably.

"You might not know me. But I certainly know you. And if it weren't for yer dad, yer wouldn't be here now, would you?"

My shallow breath quickened with my pulse. I was starting to sweat cold all over.

"Feelin' a little chill? Come, let's play a game to warm up, shall we?"

Laughing cruelly, he pulled me up on my feet and carried me over his shoulder to a contraption that looked like...a noose?

"Let's see if you can last sixty seconds."

Holding me by the shirt with one hand, he placed my neck into the noose with the other. I knew what was going on. I was going to get hanged!

Finally, words returned to me.

"PLEASE! NO! STOP! HELP!"

I struggled against him like a fish, but when the noose tightened suddenly and I hanged a foot off the ground by my neck, my breath was instantly taken away. He released his hold on me, and watched me writhing in agony with glee. I was hanging freely one foot off the ground, swinging around as I struggled against it, my legs and feet together, and my arms still tied behind me. The noose felt like as if it was getting tighter and tighter. My freedom of movement was extremely limited, and it was a very uncomfortable situation that I was in.

Is this how I am going to die? Miserably, in pain and totally humiliated in front of this villain? Is this how I die? Helpless, defenseless and in pain? Did I mention the excruciating pain in my lungs as they tried to breathe? Or the noose threatening to snap my neck in two?

The tears that welled up in my eyes began to descend as I told myself this be my fate. I could see the sadistic glee on the tormentor's face as his eyes connected with my helpless and hopeless grey eyes.

God, I wish I could move my legs! If only they weren't tied up, I would have freed myself! And even if I were to die hanging, I would enjoy one last kick at the monster.

No...I hadn't the strength after all. I had no air to cry with, and a dizziness took over my brain. I thought I might pass out. Well, if I was going to pass out, can't I just make it quick?

I saw a light, beckoning me towards it...

However, only mere seconds before death, I felt the noose loosen, and my body plummet towards the Earth. The light slowly faded away, replaced by darkness creeping around the corners of my eyes. The captor must have let me down from there so that he may torture me again. Curtains closed my eyes as my body hit the floor with a thump, my hands still behind my back, my legs folded, held together at the ankles. My lungs inhaled air like I have never tasted air before, burning with pain.

Suspended in half-consciousness, I heard him say, "That's right, go to sleep now..." He got down to me and lifted my miniskirt.

My breath slowed down despite that torture just now, and the last thing I felt before slipping away was a heavy weight on my abdomen. I daren't think of what he might be doing.

Before I could think of anything else, however, oblivion claimed me totally, and I fell into a bottomless abyss...

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Ominous, isn't it? I have the template ready, and I expect this story to be completed in at most 30 days. Which is a very long time. I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! (I know I enjoyed writing it.) Stay tuned for a new chapter which will hopefully be uploaded tomorrow. In the meantime, I would appreciate any comments and such. No, really. Any comment can help me to improve, and I need all the help I can get from reviewers. Merci beaucoup!

Terrorking Tragedian


	3. The forest clearing

After that long long wait, I've finally come back to this. In case you didn't know, I'm improving on ALL four of my stories at the same time. I definitely must learn how to type faster. So here goes, chapter 3, to relieve that little cliffhanger.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana.

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"_Did you guys happen to notice anything at all last night?"_

"_No, but heck I swore I heard a ghost scream that woke me up last night in the woods over there."_

"_Say what?!"_

"_Oh, you know, last night I woke up, and I thought it was my alarm clock but then it was more like a sort of scream that seemed to...have come...from those trees..."_

"_Oh snap..."_

"_Detective Bruckner, requesting reinforcements at the Stewart Residence immediately!"_

The hour was the sheer dark. At eight o'clock, all of Malibu would be swallowed by the daily darkness, and in the forest next to the villa, it was no different. Detective Cyrus Bruckner, with the Stewarts and their friends Lilly Truscott and Oliver Oken, commenced a thorough search for clues on the soggy ground of the dark woods. It would seem like a pointless and probably will-be-fruitless search, as stated by one of the officers upon arriving in their police cars as reinforcements, but Detective Cyrus knew a struggle will always leave its marks. And upon hearing Mr Stewart's words, he was convinced that something pivotal happened in here.

"This had better be good, Detective. Frankly, I think all this is pointless. How do you search the forest undergrowth?"

"Dig through it. Scan it. Whatever. Something must have happened here last night that is related to our case."

"Are you sure it wasn't just a coincidence? I mean, a scream from the woods seems a tad ambiguous, don't you think?"

"Then it probably means that either my hunch was right, or that we've got ourselves a new case. Since when have I been wrong, Officer Wheeler?"

"Well, you're human, aren't you? There's gotta be one time you got it wrong..."

"Just do it man! Remember that I am your superior, Wheeler! And as long as my name is Cyrus Bruckner, I will never give up on a case! Also, you're being paid to do this, and I think you owe me that much. Now quit your doubting and whining!"

"Yes sir. Whatever you say, then. Team, spread and search!"

The woods were dark and damp. Everyone struggled against the undergrowth and the thick as the search for clues went on. After two hours of futile digging, however, even the Detective had to admit that the operation was a no-go. With his head hung in defeat, Cyrus turned to Officer Wheeler and mumbled, "Alas, my friend. You were right after all. I'm wrong. There's nothing in this bloody forest!"

Robbie Ray, Jackson, and Lilly were told to wait at the edge of the forest. Taking after his police-woman mother, Oliver felt the urgency of the mission and hastened to join the police in their fruitless search. The former three could do nothing but bite their fingers nervously as the entire forest was scanned in detail.

"I could have sworn I heard a scream coming from here last night, but Detective! What are the odds that you can find a clue here? It's impossible!" Robbie inquired Detective Bruckner before he disappeared into the thicket again.

"I don't think I am right at all, but I have a hunch, and I think it's worth a try." Detective Bruckner replied simply before diving into a nearby bush wielding a metal scanner and a flashlight. Officer Wheeler could only stare incredulously.

"Say what?! We don't even have solid proof that anything happened here at all!?" Wheeler exclaimed and stomped the ground in frustration.

After another three hours, however, nobody could find a single scrap of evidence that there was a struggle or someone here at all. At one o'clock past midnight, Cyrus and Wheeler dismissed the sweaty, tired and crestfallen team of policemen with apologies.

"I can't believe you, Cyrus. Dragging us down here just because of your whimsical "hunch". Incidentally, we are so not being paid overtime for this."

"Well, I'm so bloody sorry, Chief Officer Jack Wheeler! Let me make a note for myself to increase the salary of all faithless cowards who call themselves proud policemen for a week! How 'bout that?" Cyrus glared at his whiny friend.

"Oh, damn it all. Oh say, where is that boy Oken gone? He's not still in there, is he?" Jack suddenly thought up. "That Oken boy did join us in the useless goose chase."

Cyrus remembered as well. Turning to face the trees, he yelled out as loud as he can, "OLIVER OKEN! GET OUT OF THERE! THE SEARCH IS OVER!"

Moments later, a reply was heard by those who remained at the scene. Everyone strained their ears as they struggled to pick up the answer.

Oliver, from not a very far distance away, hollered, "I THINK I'VE FOUND SOMETHING! I'M COMING OUT NOW!"

Instantly, Cyrus's mood brightened. _Oliver found something? I knew I was right! Now, I only hope I'm not disappointed..._

Oliver burst out of a bush suddenly after twenty seconds of nail-biting silence. Lilly, standing right in front of the bush, screamed blue murder and ran a distance in shock before turning around to see who it was. Jackson and Robbie also gave a start.

"Well, boy? What have you got there?" Jack asked brusquely.

"I found this." Oliver staggered up to Cyrus and placed a small dirty but shiny silver object in his hand.

"It's a...ring." Cyrus examined it, feeling as if he was being deflated, disappointment filling him like an ice bath. It was just a silly old ring, after all. Not any significant clue; it could belong to anybody.

"Man, at least you've found something. All the rest of us found were branches, dead leaves and a swarm of mosquitoes. Did you even KNOW they came in swarms?" Jack Wheeler thumped Oliver on the back hard and congratulated him.

"No, it's not just any ring. I thought it looked familiar..." Oliver's voice trailed away vaguely.

"What do you mean? This?" Cyrus held the dirty ring out for Oliver to scrutinise.

"No, it doesn't LOOK familiar, it sort of feels like I've known it for quite some time...almost as if it were human..." Oliver stared at the ring, as if trying to make a connection.

"Yeah right, now I am the one who is faithless." Cyrus withdrew his hand and rubbed the ring on his coat. Jack ribbed Oliver and asked him, "You sensed it was familiar?"

"Yeah..."

The grime on the ring was partially wiped out, but as Cyrus rubbed the surface of the ring with his gloved finger, he felt some grooves along the edge, as if there were some engravings on it.

"It's got words on it."

"Here, let me have a look at it." Robbie spoke up suddenly, walking over to Cyrus.

"Sorry, Mr Stewart, but this is a potential clue, and I'm not letting anyone touch something as important as this." Cyrus said matter-of-factly, not lifting his eyes from the ring.

"You said it yourself that ring was just doggone junk. Why would you want to keep it? And besides, I feel something's familiar with that ring too." Robbie declared steadfastly.

Cyrus snapped his head up like a mousetrap, looking at Robbie with a look of surprise. Hesitantly, he muttered, "Okay, then, if you can shed some light on it..." and handed him the ring.

Robbie took the ring gingerly and with great care, examined it like an X-ray would examine a body. After a minute or so, he began to mumble to himself, "Oh sweet niblets...can this be...?"

"Can this be what, Mr Stewart?" Cyrus snapped. Robbie looked up and said in a flat voice, "It's Miley's ring."

A stunned silence permeated the immediate area for a while. Cyrus stared at Robbie in shock, Lilly ran up to him and snatched the ring from his hand before looking at it closely herself. Oliver whispered to himself, "I knew it! I knew something was up with that thing!"

After the brief silence, Cyrus stuttered, "But...b-b-but, how do you know?"

"I recognise this ring, Detective Bruckner. It was an eleventh birthday gift from Miley's godmother Dolly, to celebrate Miley's birthday as well as...well...you wouldn't understand, and I'm not telling you. Too private. But I definitely recognise this ring." Robbie tried to explain the best he could. The ring was, in fact, not only just a birthday gift. It was cast and smithed by some of the members of the Stewart family themselves, and presented to Miley as a good luck charm, wishing her a successful career as Hannah Montana. Miley's career was just beginning, and the ring was blessed by a priest specifically to help ward off evil. Miley did not wear it on her finger all day all week, but it never left her side for too long. Even when she was not wearing it, she would keep it close by, in her pocket or somewhere. The ring offered protection against bad luck and unholy curses. It seemed, to Robbie Ray, that its usefulness has run out at last.

Lilly also recognised the ring.

"I've seen this ring! Miley wore it on her finger all the time, or so I think. She even lended it to me when I was up for my skateboarding competition while wearing a pair of dorky glasses, to wish me luck." Lilly held out the ring for Jackson and Oliver to see. Jackson nodded grimly, and Oliver stared at it, as if in deep thought.

"Well! It would seem that all this was no wild goose chase after all! Oliver, can you show us where you found this ring?" Cyrus raised his eyes to Oliver.

"Sure, Detective! I found it by a log somewhere down there..." Oliver beckoned everyone to follow, and dived into the thicket, arms beating off vines and branches. Detective Bruckner and Chief Officer Wheeler hastened to follow, with the rest of the lot following closely behind them.

It was a hard battle through the undergrowth, but soon enough Oliver led them to a small clearing with the moonlight shining brightly on a fallen log like a spotlight. Lying innocently in the moonlight, the log looked like a perfect haven for the flora and fauna and all wildlife that lived on it.

It was what that laid beside the log that disturbed them.

"Holy cow." Cyrus stood wide-eyed.

Laying beside the log were a bundle of ropes, carelessly strewn all over the floor, a roll of masking tape, hastily abandoned. Almost as if the owner of these articles was in a hurry to leave. There were marks on the ground that looked very much like upturned trails.

"So...it was a kidnapping." Cyrus mumbled to himself.

"Eh?!" Robbie rounded at him, horrified to see the sight.

"It's probable that my hunch was right. It's an elementary deduction I've arrived at." Watching Robbie's confused expression, Cyrus continued, "A scream from the woods...well, that sounds very cliché but a dark deserted and difficult to maneuvre place is a favourable spot for a secretive criminal to operate. And the forest at night certainly is a wonderful backdrop for such criminals. Judging by the ropes and masking tape, I dare say kidnap. She's probably tied and gagged, the kidnapper dragging her round the place, by the looks of these track-like marks on the floor. Finally, the kidnapper hoisted her away, but probably needed two hands, and hence dropped everything, including his spare ropes and masking tape."

"Or it could be that he wants the crime to be noticed." Jack Wheeler added, pointing to an iron bar thrust deep into the earth. Beside it laid a white envelope. He walked over and picked the clues up.

Lilly had tears in her eyes now, Oliver was aghast, and Robbie buried his face into his hands. Cyrus said, "Come on, help me pick up these stuff and we'll carry them to the investigations department."

They picked up the abandoned ropes, roll of masking tape, the iron bar and the envelope and hurried to the Wheeler's police car waiting at the edge of the forest, taking pictures of the track-like marks on the ground as an afterthought. All the while, Cyrus, and he was sure about everyone else, had developed a deepening curiosity for the mysterious envelope. What was the envelope doing there? And what was inside it?

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**Meanwhile, in the torture house in the middle of nowhere...**

Miley was sobbing in a dark corner, trying to distance herself as much as possible from the maniac staring at her from across the room. She was trying to squeeze herself into the corner as much as possible, her hands were numb after all the pressure, and her knees were gathered close to her chest, as if trying to curl up into a defensive ball. Her ankles were still bound tightly, and the rough ropes were beginning to painfully scratch the tender skin in contact.

"Do you know why you're here, lassie?"

Miley shook her head hastily. The newly-administered gag in the form of masking tape glued her lips together, hence taking away her ability to speak or scream.

"I'll tell you why. Your loved one made my life miserable. I had to have revenge, so I decided to exact it on you just to ruin their life."

Miley was too petrified to be mystified. She just fixed her wide-open eyes at the dark figure sitting ten paces away from her.

"Ha ha, you don't get it, do you? Well, I usually torture and kill my victims on the spot, in the most gruesome way you can imagine. But you are a special case. I'll keep you captive for as long as it takes for your daddy to understand my ulterior motives. Perhaps I'll start with giving him a piece of your intestines. Or an ear, maybe? It doesn't really matter." He gave a high cruel laugh as he watched Miley scream silently behind her gag. Pulling out an iron crowbar, he hissed at her, "I'm going to have to go out for a while, so just to keep you quiet..." He walked over slowly, every step meaning to instill fear. As he approached his victim, Miley began to feel a significant drop in the temperature of her surroundings.

"Go to sleep now..."

"MMMMMMMMMMM!!!"

WHACK!

With his arm made of steel ropes, the psychopathic tormentor knocked her sideways before progressing to beat her hard on every inch with the crowbar. Miley struggled and screamed repeatedly, begging for mercy wordlessly. Glistening tears dropped from her eyes like falling pearls.

BANG! The crowbar hit her directly over her stomach. Miley doubled over in agony.

WHACK! With another adrenaline-fueled swing, the blow landed on her arm, nearly breaking it.

PHWACK! Yet another blow landed on her knee, making her writhe and try to wriggle away from him.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! FEEL THE PAIN!"

"MMMMMMM! MMMMM!"

The final blow hit her squarely on the head. The force of the hit knocked Miley out, and her unconscious body keeled over sideways, her head landing on the cold dirty ground first. Blood oozed out from many parts of her bruised and battered body.

"Heh heh heh. That's right. Go to sleep now."

With that, he chucked the crowbar across the room and left the room, still chuckling.

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Even at one in the morning, police stations remain open. Detective Cyrus Bruckner, Chief Officer Jack Wheeler, Robbie Ray, Jackson, Lilly and Oliver looked like a big party of tree-borne goblins as they trooped through the door, twigs and leaves still in their hair. The officer behind the counter was the first to comment on their "druid-like" appearance.

"Hey, Detective Bruckner! I didn't know you lot were Night Elves! Oh right, a similar lot looking just like you walked past about an hour ago!"

"Shut up, officer! We're here strictly for business."

"Yes, sir, whatever you say..."

The officer eyed them as they marched past him, doubling over with silent laughter. As soon as he was out of sight and earshot, Cyrus muttered under his breath, but loudly enough so that everyone can hear him, "Moron. I swear, they let anyone be policemen these days..."

The investigations department were delighted to have been presented something that could give them a clue about what was a mystery so far. Detective Bruckner explained that it was probably a kidnapping, judging by what was the evidence. Nevertheless, what puzzled everyone was the envelop, unopened all the time.

"You might want to open that, just to see what is in it." Jackson suggested tentatively.

Cyrus stared at the envelop for a few seconds before ripping it apart. He reached in and pulled out a piece of paper.

"A letter. But from whom?" He mumbled to himself. Everyone waited in bated breath.

"Oh dear, oh dear, this is all history repeating..." Cyrus's hand began to shake.

Robbie, Jackson, Lilly, Oliver and Officer Wheeler all craned their necks as they tried to read the letter in Cyrus's hand. Moments later, though, Cyrus threw it on the table angrily, cursing, "Damn that wretch! He's back!"

The curvy red words and letters on the paper were clearly visible now.

_To the police idiots,_

_I don't know whether you'll ever find this letter or not, but if you did then you've got a lot more than I thought you did. Yes, in case you were wondering, this is kidnap, and I intend to make it the most gruesome and lurid crime I have ever committed in my life. Tell Robbie Ray Stewart he'll get his. Oh, and yeah, expect a reign of terror from hereon!_

_Of, course, if you fail to contact me, don't worry. You'll receive my latest updates regarding the projects I'm currently working on. Let history repeat itself once more, here in Malibu!_

_Signed, The Reaper._

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And that ends Chapter three. I'll try and post chapter four back to back, though I must say, I cannot keep any promises. But I did put this story on hold for a long time, so I owe you that much. Please stay tuned. Thank you all.

Terrorking Tragedian


	4. The words of the killer

I'm getting on the story immediately. I really hope for some reviews by now; the only one that came to me said: UPDATE!, which was not really helpful. It took me a lot to pull through, but here it is. Chapter 4!

I'm really hopeful right now, and hope to keep up as much as I can.

Disclaimer: I own only my talent, not Hannah Montana.

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Jackson was mystified.

"Reaper? Sounds like some psychopathic murderer from a teen slasher film. Who is it?"

Cyrus whipped his head around to face Jackson.

"You've never heard of him?" he asked sharply.

Jackson shook his head slowly. Detective Bruckner sighed and told him the long story, aware that Lilly and Oliver listened in rapt attention.

"The Reaper was a terror of Malibu, famous for his brutality and sheer sadism. He was a rampant serial killer of this area; never caught, never glimpsed. He murdered at least twenty to thirty people, each case grotesque, horrid and ingeniously creative on the Reaper's part. It was his modus operandi and the fact that no one ever caught him that enabled him to sow discord and city-wide panic amongst all the inhabitants of Malibu. For these reasons: gruesome creativity, brutality, sadism, and slippery nature, he began to call himself the Reaper. Eventually this name registered in the minds of the people too.

"Most cases involved a torture murder, presumably a painful but slow and torturous death must have been inflicted on his victims. His favourite style of murder, however, seemed to be disembowelment, hanging and then mutilation of the body. It was his very bloody modus operandi that made us police, even the FBI, so determined to catch him. He constantly posted and mailed to the police, sending taunts and "updates" regarding his most recent victims, almost as if he was playing a game of cat and mouse with us. And of course, to catch him, we needed to play along.

"I was one of the men in charge of tracking him down and apprehending him. So far, all I can say is that he is the only man I'm after that I've failed to catch. He disappeared about twenty years ago, and over time, people eventually forgot about his reign of terror and resumed their lives in peaceful Malibu."

Cyrus noticed that Lilly, Oliver and Jackson were listening wide-eyed. Believing that he had managed to captivate his audience, he relived a time when he had personally been involved at the crime scene.

"There was a time, I remember, when he killed his sixth victim. We were hard-pressed to keep this murder a secret, to avoid further public panic, but the press had already found out about the gruesome death of this woman named Martha George. We kept all the details confidential, but the overall story, the press knew about it. The case received a lot of publicity; headlines blared vividly "MURDER AT SEVENTH STREET: WOMAN FOUND DEAD AND DISFIGURED." I was there at the crime scene myself, as part of the investigations team."

Cyrus shuddered slightly before suggesting, "It was a really horrible scene. I'm not sure whether you'll want to hear this."

"No! Go on, go on! Don't leave us in suspense!" Lilly urged him.

"You want to hear every detail? Every exact detail?"

"Yes!"

"Okay then..."

Cyrus took a deep breath and described the details vividly.

"When we first saw the dead body lying in the living room, some of us started to retch. She was completely unrecognizable; the only way we managed to find out her name and such was by asking her neighbours and friends. Her face was...only flesh can be seen. The Reaper skinned her and removed her face, her nose, her eyes gouged out and squashed into a puddle of goo and stuff on the floor close by, as if stepped on. Her ears were cramped into her mouth, wide open and slit upwards in a way that the end of the slit was at the spot where the ears were. We call it a Chelsea Grin or Glasgow Smile. She was shaved bald, clumps of hair found strewn under her bed. There was an unholy feel in all this; the way her dead body was smiling, faceless and bloody, lying there like a dead ghost."

The room suddenly became very chilly. "We took her to the post-mortem examination chamber afterwards and found out even more." Officer Wheeler said darkly. Cyrus shuddered again and went on.

"Her neck was slit to the bone at the back. Her voice box was initially missing, but the rest of the tubes in the neck were completely severed, all save the vertebra at the back of the neck. We found that her b-b-breasts were chopped off and diced up into pieces shaped like cubes, buried in the lungs. Her chest was opened up, her heart and liver all slashed up and piled together in a bloody mess in the ribcage. Her aorta, the central blood vessel, was cut clean through. Her lungs were also cut open, and in it we found bits of flesh from various parts of her body, including her breasts. Her guts smelled the most horrible, an acrid stench filling the room as if she was beginning to rot. I remember her abdomen was cut and pulled wide apart as well. Her intestines were a tangled-up bloody mess, and in the coils we found her voice box, her stomach, sliced open and hence soaking the area with foul juices, and some foreign objects like pieces of debris, a metal pipe and shit. Shit, and what we found later to be urine in there."

Cyrus gave a odd, shuddering sigh. Lilly put her hands over her mouth, regretting ever asking him to tell the scene. Oliver and Jackson looked slightly sick, and Robbie tried his best to maintain a straight face.

In a hard voice, Cyrus said, "I hardly like to think about how the arms and legs were hacked off the body, massive chunks of flesh hewn out and found in many places. Martha's genital area was savaged beyond belief. It was an indescribable wreck and ruin."

At this point, Detective Bruckner could go no further. The deathly silence felt like a sort of suffocating cover. An icy sensation was felt in everyone's stomach as they watched the silent detective for another minute.

"It's ghastly. That Reaper. I shudder to think what will happen to Miley by the time we find her." Cyrus remarked drily. "Look at this!" he added, pointing to the words on the letter.

"Most gruesome and lurid crime..." Wheeler muttered to himself. "This is not good at all..."

"Ya think?! This guy is totally gonna savage Miley by the time we get our hands on him! If we get him at all!" Jackson exclaimed, panic in his voice.

"And how come he knows my name?" Robbie asked, pointing at the part of the letter that read, "_Tell Robbie Ray Stewart he'll get his."_

"Probably forced it out of Miley somehow. Be on your guard. He can strike any time." Cyrus muttered darkly.

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The police now highly suspect the return of the Reaper, a notorious serial killer who vanished twenty years ago. The Reaper was a national terror, in fact, appearing in the news and gaining a lot of sensational publicity. Robbie Ray, for one, heard about the atrocities commited by the Reaper before his disappearance twenty years ago, while he still lived in Tennessee. The Reaper's identity was unknown all the time, but after his disappearance many took it that the Reaper was gone, retired or dead, nobody was sure. They resumed their normal lives, heaving a sigh of relief. Now the police had to decide whether to break the news out to the public that the Reaper might be back, and raise public awareness and security, or keep the information confidential, to avoid risking a city-wide panic. Chief Officer Jack Wheeler and Detective Cyrus Bruckner were once again placed in charge of the entire operation.

"Well, we got the lead we need. Now all we have to do is to catch that Reaper, right? It's like going after him all over again." Wheeler asked.

"Don't forget! He has a victim under his belt! We must rescue her!" Bruckner exclaimed angrily.

So far, the only people who know about the return of the Reaper are the investigations department, the police force in Malibu, the close friends of Miley Stewart, and the two chiefs-in-command Wheeler and Bruckner.

It will be only a matter of time, however, before everyone in Malibu feels the wrath of the Reaper.

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I am so sorry I couldn't put more into this chapter, but I couldn't possibly think of more. In case somebody accuses me for being (something I don't want to hear), I will state that it's not because I don't bother or whatever. I just feel that there is nothing more I can put in this part of the story, and that while I desire to take the thriller to great heights, I will do it methodically and at my own pace. I am feeling very excited about the next chapter, though. It's going to get better from here, I swear.

Actually, it was more of a choice between: I make you wait longer for a longer chapter, or there is little wait, but you get a short chapter. I hope it was not substandard.

Terrorking Tragedian


	5. Who are you?

It's been one year. Now, at last, this story shall be given new life. One reason was that I found the story plan I made last year, the other being it was called back into action by several people, most notably my new reader Turn.Me.On. (previously known as Fritolays). I owed these people the story long enough; now I will give them what they want!

Do you remember where we last left off? "The Reaper" makes a threat to come back and haunt Malibu again. Now, let the games begin…

(Content is made as realistic as the real world is. If the reader finds it offensive or uncomfortable to read, well, you know why it's a Teen-rated story.)

Disclaimers: Won't let them get in the way again. I don't own this!

* * *

Who are you?

She stared at him from the corner she was trying to squeeze into as much as possible, to distance herself from him. The ropes tying her hands behind her back and ankles together had badly scratched the skin beneath, leaving what would be permanent scars. He sat on a dirty wooden stool six paces away, with crossed arms, and a malicious gleam in his eyes as he fixed an intense gaze on her. He enjoyed watching her suffering, her pain, the humiliation from being beaten and raped repeatedly. She would, by now, risk even her life just to get out of the hell hole where she was held in for the last four days.

"I'm bored," he said. A little crack of a nasty smile appeared at the corner of his lips. "Maybe we should have fun again."

Tears were already flowing non-stop from Miley Stewart's eyes. Her voice of desperation spoke out for the first time in what seemed to be weeks to her. Long, miserable, hellish weeks. If she were to stay here forever, she might as well die.

"What do you want from me? Who are you?!" Miley cried, her voice quavering and cracking, her eyes tired yet terrified.

The man laughed cruelly, reminiscent of a bulldog's barks. He enjoyed seeing her despair. He really did.

"Who are you to talk, Miss Prissy? Just for that, you'll get this from me!" He cackled, holding up a metal rod and another piece of rough rope. His advances were lightning-fast; in no time, he'd wrestled Miley down and tied her knees together too. Now she was completely defenseless. He then raised the metal rod and began to beat every part of her battered body.

Screams filled the air once more. Unheard by the world, these screams of despair, terror, pain, and helplessness were absorbed into the dirty damp brick walls, dissipating into nothingness.

"NO! NO! STOP! PLEASE! STOP! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!"

Sadistic maniacal laughter rang across the room, but were soon drowned out by piercing cries of genuine extreme pain, and renewed desperation.

"AAAAAHH!! AAAAAHH!! STOP! IT HURTS! IT HURTS!!"

"HAHAHAHAHA! THAT'S THE POINT!!"

"NO! STOP! AAAAAHH! AAAAAAAAAAHH!"

A good half minute beating after, Miley Stewart was reduced to nothing but a broken pile on the floor. Bleeding everywhere, new bruises joining the blue-purple-black ones, her hair now resembling the head of the Medusa, she looked nothing like the pretty girl she was four days ago. How can this pervert stay infatuated to her in this state?

Perhaps the tormentor was thinking along these same lines; for a second, a flicker of pity flashed across his face. He wanted his sex slave to look sexually attractive even with repeated abuse, not like a depreciated wreck. After all, she was to be the longest-lasting victim he would ever hold captive. If she was going to be his toy, he would have to do more than feed and water her; he would have to take care of her.

He left the room and returned in a jiffy, then took a piece of white cloth and cleaned up all the blood on her face and bare bruised legs. He scrubbed roughly, ignoring her protests and groans of pain. Then he flipped her onto her belly and combed her hair until it was no more a bird's nest. Miley, tied up and defenseless, could only guess what his intentions were as he applied some sort of hair conditioner onto her brown curly locks.

The man stood back and reviewed his work. She was, at least, clean again. Her hair was satisfactorily appealing, and she appeared a lot more beautiful than just minutes ago and, of course, sexier. As for the bruises, he couldn't do anything to remove them; just no more rough handling for the next couple of days. The bloodstained clothes and miniskirt will be dealt with some other time, he thought.

So much for a pervert's fantasies.

There was a moment's silence. Then Miley ventured the question again, this time timidly, visibly shaken.

"Who are you?" she sobbed.

The tormentor had to relent. He was still human enough to pity.

"Your father knows me as Tyson Jones," he hissed.

Tyson Jones? Why does that ring the bell? Miley thought. Surely Daddy mentioned him a few times.

Tyson Jones chortled mirthlessly at Miley's puzzled expression. "You don't remember the name? Well, I'll jog your memory," he said, pacing back and forth in front of his captive, a hint of anger tainting his voice.

"I was the arch-nemesis of Robbie Ray Stewart. He and I competed over everything, and more often than not, he would beat me. I was his mortal enemy since the day we met in Middle School in Tennessee," Jones said bitterly, clenching his fists. "Your father seemed to be top at everything; music, academics, and especially the girls. He had the looks, the charm, and the talent. I had nothing."

Jones seemed to be fuming over his memories with each passing second. Miley sat waiting in bated breath.

"One of those ladies was Susan. Your mother," Jones added, casting a dark glare at Miley. Miley's eyes opened wide. _My mother? How can this be?_

"They met in a café, and apparently fell in love at first sight. What your father never knew was that I was Susan's boyfriend. Yes, that's right, missy," he spat maliciously, seeing the look of utter shock on his victim's face. "I was her boyfriend. And guess what was the first thing she did after meeting Robbie Ray? She dumped me! She dumped me and ran off with that mullet-headed bastard!"

Jones kicked the wooden stool hard, sending it flying five feet away until it landed on the cold dusty floor with a crash. Miley's mind seemed to be frozen with surprise. _This man was once my mother's boyfriend?! I don't believe it! How can this be?!_

"I never forgave either of them. Not Susan. And definitely not Robbie Stewart. They had to die. And so did everyone else for treating me like dirt all these years! I admit; I turned to the dark side. I wanted to. I swore I would get revenge on everyone who once called me a loser, and the entire human race for not seeing my pain!" Jones's voice got louder and louder, fueled by manic rage. His face had been twisted and contorted into a mask of madness and sheer anger. His steps quickened and his motions became increasingly violent. It was as if he had become insane, or possessed by a demon, or likely both.

I remember now! Miley thought, as a sudden memory dawned upon her. Daddy did mention this classmate from Tennessee who was driven mad by his bitterness and because he was such a failure in life! I wish Dad treated him a little better…

"I needed to kill. It became my bloodline," Jones continued, reining in his intense rage. "The first thing I needed to do was to get revenge. And your mother was my first victim."

The words hit like a speeding truck. Miley was speechless with shock for a second. Something was terribly wrong.

"But Momma was killed in a car accident!" she screamed, recalling how Susan Stewart died as tears welled up once more. "She was supposed to pick me up from school! She drove into the middle of the road, and a semi hit her car! It was a hit-and-run!"

Tyson Jones shook his head grimly, watching the facial expression on Miley's face change from anguish to utter denial, with glee. The girl is so gullible, he thought.

"No, no, Miley Stewart, _I killed your mother_! It was I who drove the semi that crushed your mother on the road flat like a pancake! That was sweet vengeance!"

"NO!" Miley wailed, sobs racking her body. "That's not true! You're lying just to scare me, aren't you?!"

"Believe it, girlie, I did it! I am the killer!"

"NO! NO!!" Miley broke down, renewed grief coursing through every particle of her body like poison. Disbelief was replaced with horror and intense anger. "You killed Momma! YOU MURDERER!!"

"I killed more than just your mother, girlie! Get over it!" he roared, yet he was all smiles watching the psychological torture at its most effective.

**"NOOOO!! NOOOOO!!"**

Miley collapsed, unable to speak, crying her heart out with her face on the dirty floor. Finally, the ugly truth was out.

Jones enjoyed the torture for another ten minutes, and then turned to leave. Miley was reduced to a broken pile once more. The only sounds in the room audible were sobs and sniffs from the grief-stricken girl.

"Now, killing your mother wasn't enough to ruin Robbie Ray's life totally. Now I'll have to kill you, too, just to appease my thirst for vengeance, and to make Robbie Ray's life completely miserable," Jones licked his lips. "Imagine, the two women in his family, claimed by death tragically, one his wife, the other his beloved princess."

He turned and looked at Miley for the last time. Their eyes met.

"That'll really screw up his life."

With that, Jones stomped out of the room, cackling evilly, slamming the door behind him as he left. And Miley Stewart was left alone, locked in the room once more, yet another notch away from sanity.

* * *

Tyson Jones is the name of the villain. Let's make that clear. Everything is going according to plan. That makes me happy! Now the action only escalates. Stay tuned for chapter 6, and sorry for the year-long delay!

(Comments are greatly appreciated. Merci beaucoup.)

Terrorking Tragedian


	6. Back to their Daily Lives

Does anyone feel this show no longer seems to be a typical detective-type story any more? This has now become some kind of AXN violent mystery and action movie. Yet, I actually like it. It adds depth into the story; the plot isn't just about a random psychopathic murderer like you see on TV crime story shows.

(This is a bridging chapter. There were supposed to be two, but I scrapped both and replaced with a chapter focused on developing characters' feelings because I don't really do that very often. I hope it is good enough. If it sucks, let me know.)

Sympathise with them, readers! How would you feel if your sister had been kidnapped?

Disclaimers: You know the rest…

* * *

_Unable to let such a horror run rampant in the city amongst the defenseless populace, the California state police authorities have announced to the public about the reappearance of the Reaper, a terrible serial killer that had vanished twenty years ago until now._

_In doing so, it led to a state-wide panic. No one felt safe anymore. Doors were locked tight; windows barred shut, streets becoming deserted at night. Parents would wait at school gates to bring their children home personally, afraid they might lose them. Even the younger generation understood the danger that was lurking in the shadows of the city, and had become more cautious. And, the news of Miley Stewart's kidnapping meant it was only the beginning of another period of terror._

_Meanwhile, all the police could do was to appeal for the Reaper to contact them, and arrange a parlay session. And that left the family and friends of Miley Stewart to return to their daily normal lives, or as "normal" as can be after the incident._

_

* * *

_Robbie Ray Stewart switched of the television with a sinking feeling in his stomach. It was the same thing over and over again; first the hope that whosoever had his daughter would step forward, then cold disappointment washing over him when he found out that nothing had happened, nothing had changed. His daughter was still lost. And the feelings of hurt accrued every passing day.

He sighed and placed his face in his hands. Helplessness was the word to use. He was more than just desperate to have his little girl back in his arms; that he became obsessed with finding out the location of the girl and the identity of her captor told of how much love he had for her. But there was nothing he could do. If the FBI couldn't do it, what can a mere lone man do to help?

The elusiveness of this beast, this monster that abducted his baby girl infuriated him. Dreams of strangling this faceless bastard played in his mind every night, as frequently as hopeful visions of reuniting with his princess permeated his restless sleep. How could he have let his guard down? How could he be so careless to let this eagle steal away his chick while his back was turned?

It was his fault, after all. It was his fault she had to suffer. That everyone had to suffer. That he himself had to suffer. He deserved it, but Miley didn't. Nor did anyone else.

He hadn't cried for years since his wife departed for Heaven. Until now. He cried heavier than he'd possibly cried in decades. No one stopped him, though.

Yet determination always shone out of the despair. He was adamant, he was angry, and above all, he was a father, and his paternal instinct told him to never stop searching for his child, no matter how fruitlessly. He would try again tomorrow, and if nothing happened, he would try yet again. Then the cycle of emotions would continue. He would never stop until she was back in his arms.

"I promise…and Robbie Ray never breaks a promise…"

* * *

Jackson Stewart never did think much about his sister until she left his side. As he prepared himself for bed, washing up and brushing his teeth, his mind never stopped lingering around Miley and all that he knew about her. It never occurred to him just how important she was in his life. He grew up with her; in fact, they were the best of friends until the teenage years settled in and sibling rivalry drove a wedge between them. He saw her everyday, being siblings and family, to the point when he was desensitized. He took her for granted.

I did, didn't I? he thought angrily, brushing his teeth with exaggerated vigour and force. He shouldn't have taken her for granted. But he didn't know until she actually was no longer around him. And he learnt just how terribly he missed her. Right then, there could be only one person in the world he was angry at, and that person was staring at him from the other side of the mirror.

He saw his father crying pathetically, and while he tried to comfort the normally unswayable mountain of strength, he never told him to stop crying. Jackson knew how his father felt. He himself had trouble preventing private tears from coming as he lay in bed at night. He wished he could have his little sister cuddled up beside him warmly in bed, like they did when they were children and were afraid of the dark. Like they did when their mother passed away, and they supported one another this way every night.

If only he could do something to help, he would do it. And he would risk his life to do it. Whatever it takes to get his little sister back. He would do it even if his father wasn't on his side, for siblings cannot exist when they have none.

Jackson knelt at the side of his bed and uttered a heartfelt prayer. A plea to the Higher Powers to help him and comfort him and his sister, wherever she may be. So that she may be found alive and well, as soon as possible, and Justice be delivered. Soon, he hoped, he would have Miley back by his side again.

_And_, he swore, _I will never take her for granted ever again._

"Amen."

* * *

Perhaps one of the hardest hit by this crisis was the young man who may have directly caused it by letting trouble simply come and spirit Miley away. Since the kidnapping, Jake Ryan has never found rest, ravaged by distress and guilt. He was her boyfriend, and the fact that it was he who allowed her to leave the party alone and get herself kidnapped only compounded his anguish.

What kind of boyfriend was he? How could he let his girlfriend, whom he obviously loved deeply, go home alone on such a cold and dark night? Surely it was the duty of the boyfriend, regardless of his girlfriend's reluctance, to be her ride home, especially at night when the risk of danger only increases? Worst of all, he actually let her out of his sight; enough time for her to slip out of his place without him even noticing. He never actually saw her leave, nor did he give her a good-bye kiss.

What kind of boyfriend was he? A terrible one, that's what.

"C'mon, Jake, don't be so hard on yourself," Lilly said, putting a reassuring hand on his arm.

"Yeah, it's not your fault, Jake," Oliver added, resting his arm on Jake's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting sort of way. "You can't be expected to know everything. How would you know that she would be kidnapped that night just by leaving your place early?"

Jake feigned deafness. He simply didn't want them around him. And it was not because he needed some time alone to reflect on the terrible thing he'd done. It was because he felt no amount of apology would be able to ease the pain he had dealt them, Miley's best friends, who would naturally share the hardest hits. In short, Jake was _ashamed_.

"We're her best friends, so we were badly hit too. We understand how you're feeling, Jake," Lilly said in a soft and tentative way. "That's because we feel the same way. We want to help you…"

"I bet you do," Jake said tartly. He knew they would hate him for doing this to their best friend. He knew _he_ would were he Lilly or Oliver. He would hate Jake Ryan just as much as he hated Jake Ryan right now, _as_ Jake Ryan.

"C'mon Jake, you're not going to feel sorry for yourself forever, are you?" Oliver remarked tactlessly.

"I'm sorry for myself because I know I'll be very sorry in front of you!" Jake exploded. Lilly and Oliver released him hastily.

"Oh…but Jake, why?" Lilly asked quietly.

Jake did not calm down. "How can I forgive myself when I have caused so much pain to all who care about her? It's not just you and me; it's her dad and her family too. It's my entire fault, don't you see?" He glared at them with eyes reflect apology, pain and anger all at once. "How am I going to apologise to her Dad? Do you think just a mere 'sorry' is going to work?" he added, breathing deeply.

"We forgive you, Jake! It wasn't your fault in the first place!" Lilly said desperately, on the verge of tears.

Oliver came to her rescue. "Yeah, dude! And I'm sure Miley's dad will…"

"Just save it!" Jake spat, holding his palm up in front of them. With that, he sprang up and dashed off, feeling unclean. He had sinned, and he was guilty. He was not worthy to be in Lilly and Oliver's presence.

As he raced down the school hallway, forcing tears back, he heard Lilly and Oliver calling out for him. But he refused to head them.

Jake was a failure and a disaster in the eyes of the Stewarts, in Miley's friend's eyes, and in his own eyes. He cursed himself.

Until Miley Stewart returned, and he redeemed himself before all of them, Jake Ryan will be in disgrace.

* * *

Okay, that was probably the best thing I've written during this period. I suppose it's inspiration or something, but with the condition of writer's block ailing me, I am quite pleased with this. It's more poetic than I originally perceived. Additionally, in my original plans, Jake Ryan was hardly mentioned. Hence is the beauty of story plans; you can never go haywire with the story plot.

Okay, now go ahead and review!

Stay with me, for the story is going to continue in the next chapter, and there will be the promised dramatic twist to be expected! The next chapter is when the tension finally begins to escalate very quickly!

I'm serious; **STAY WITH ME!!** I've been waiting for this moment for a year!

Terrorking Tragedian


	7. Escape Attempt

Are you feeling the tension? Because now the action really steps up, and things are about to turn more horrible for everyone, especially our damsel in distress. Prepare to bite your nails and a box of tissue papers!

Disclaimer: I own this thing! YAY!! Oh, wait, that was a dream…TT

Escape Attempt 

Miley opened her eyes. Her head was pounding painfully, and her eyes still stung from the non-stop crying of the previous night. She was calm, but the deep-seated of hopelessness and despair still lingered. Yet it seemed to her that on that day, something dramatic will happen. She still had a chance.

It was dark as usual, but judging by the beams of light shining through the little basement window just under the ceiling, it was probably morning. The floor was dirty and damp as usual, but Miley did not care anymore; she had slept and basically lived on it for all the time she had spent here. The bowl on the floor with paltry amounts of some foul leftover food, provided by her captor at irregular intervals, sat innocently in front of her. But something in the room felt different that morning. Something out of the ordinary, something unfamiliar, and unexpected. Even with the little beam of light that shone through the window like a spear, Miley's dark-adjusted eyes spotted the thing immediately.

_The door was half-open._

How could it be? Was he careless enough to forget to lock the door? Or is something wrong?

She recalled how, the night before, that monster that held her here for so long raped her yet again. She cried and cried until all her tears were used up, and her throat expired from the constant stress it was put through. He was more brutal than usual last night, and the last thing she remembered before passing out was him stomping out of the room, having taken out his rage on her. Could he have forgotten to close the door as he left?

A rush of hope flooded through Miley. She finally saw her chance to escape. Still, fear held her back from a break for freedom.

_Mustn't hurry. Can't let that guy catch me trying to run away, or I'll be dead for sure. I must be sure that he's gone before I can even take these ropes off._

So she waited. And waited. And waited some more. There was only still silence in the house.

Not daring to breathe, as if afraid of getting caught in the act, Miley began to pick at the ropes tying her wrists together behind her back. They were loosened after the previous night's torture, and surely, by simply wriggling her wrist, she could shake the ropes off. Within minutes, for the first time in days, Miley's hands were free.

Tears sprung into her eyes as she held her hands before them. She had not seen her own hands for as long as she'd been held here, and now, finally, she had them back. They were grimy and dirty, and her nails have grown quite long. There were serious lacerations from the rough ropes all over her wrists by now, and they still stung. But the pain did not register in Miley's head. By gaining the function of her hands, she could finally free herself. And the hope for freedom was the thought in her mind that preservedher sanity for the previous hellish weeks.

Frantically, she pulled the ropes that bound her knees down and attacked the ropes tying her ankles together with renewed vigour and energy. The sharp fingernails were a boon; they helped her pick at the crudely done but hard-to-rip-apart knots. It was painful work; her ankles were just as badly scratched by the ropes as her wrists. Nevertheless, she gritted her teeth and persisted until, eventually; they too fell apart and released her ankles. Now, physically, she was totally free.

Fleeting but glorious feelings of exultation and relief flooded every ventricle of her body, but she knew she was completely free yet. She was still trapped in the hell house. And a single second, a single misstep, even an accidental gasp could spell the difference between life and death. The Reaper could still be in the house.

A loud bang resounded from somewhere upstairs. Miley nearly jumped out of her skin in fright. She knew that if her captor caught her red-handed trying to escape, unimaginably terrible things will happen to her. Dashing back to her corner, she struggled between running somewhere to hide and tying herself back up with the ropes she had just shed. Either way, the frantic actions to cover up an escape would be futile if she were caught in the act.

On the brink of tears, Miley darted back to her corner and closed her eyes, praying desperately, her very soul shaking in fear.

* * *

"Dad, I don't see why we need to go to the police station," Jackson protested against his father.

"I didn't ask you to come," Robbie Ray shot back coldly. "I'll just be going by myself."

"But Dad, why? Don't you have something else to do? I mean…"

"What I do is none of your business!" Robbie Ray yelled in frustration. Jackson was visually taken aback by his father's rage and sank back, looking slightly hurt.

Almost immediately, Robbie Ray felt remorse. After all, his son couldn't possibly figure out exactly WHY he was going to the police station. In fact, there was probably nobody in the world except Robbie Ray himself who knew why he wanted to go to the police station. Or, why he simply HAD to go.

"I'm sorry, son," Robbie Ray muttered, looking Jackson in the eye. "But I…I've got a feeling that something important's gonna happen, and I gotta be at the police station to see it."

But dare he explain to all the other folks what it really was? Was he sure of it himself? He'd risk being branded as mad, as obsessed, even driven insane by the tragedy that happened to his family. No one but God would understand him. Except, perhaps, Miley herself, his lost daughter.

For he began to hear her calling him through…what was it, he couldn't tell. The Force? His dreams? The link between the souls of a parent and his child? Or was it simply his father's intuition to sense that she wanted to make contact with him? Whatever it was, he let it guide him, and it would lead him to Detective Cyrus's office.

Jackson wouldn't know what he was talking about, or would he?

"I'm coming with you, Dad."

Robbie Ray turned around and smiled at his son. "Go get your coat then. We'll use my car," he said.

* * *

_Not for long_, Miley thought. _I'm not going to be stuck here for long._

As soon as she snuck out of the main door out of this shack, there would be no way her captor could rein her in again. She would be truly free, if not safe.

Everything depended on luck. Was she willing to risk it all and walk out of that half-opened door facing her in the basement? Miley thought of all the people who would be distraught at her disappearance. How her life and future could still be. How much she wanted to live. And most of all, how much she longed for justice to be done.

She inched towards the door and pushed it open. Breath held, her heart ceasing its pumping, Miley listened for any sound coming from upstairs.

There really was no one at home. Heaving another sigh of relief, she crept out slowly, sticking to the walls and hiding amongst the shadows to locate the front door. It was not that hard; the house was not big, and within moments she had spotted the heavy wooden door that led to the outside world. Exhilaration flooded every vein in her body. _YES! Freedom at last!_

Except the door wouldn't open. No matter how hard she wrenched the doorknob, it simply wouldn't budge. A cold crushing sensation of disappointment and the usual despair dawned upon Miley, causing her to deflate rapidly. She twisted and tugged, but ultimately, the metal lock and bolt won the fight. She was locked in. Apparently, Tyson Jones was not a fool enough to leave his front door unlocked when he wasn't home.

The windows, grimy and dirty, as if they had not been wiped in years, were bolted shut too, Miley noticed. Sturdy if rusty metal grills on both sides of the window probably made the house look like a prison from the outside. And it was, for there was no way to get out; he had, in fact, sealed her in.

_Don't panic, now. Don't panic. We can still get out. I'll find his keys, or something to break me out of here. Yeah, that'll be a good idea._

Hoping against hope that Tyson Jones was not about to bust through the door any time soon, Miley dashed all over the two storey house in a frantic search for anything that might offer her a chance to escape. A gun? A lock pick? A crowbar? Best of all, a set of keys to the door?

Nothing. For an hour, she could find nothing that would help break her out of the house. The glass windows now seemed to mock her; as if teasing her for her inability to escape, and the loss of hope.

Miley knelt down on the living room carpet, tears dripping down her eyes slowly. Biting her fingernails, she began to lose her cool.

_Calm down, Miley. Calm down, now. We can't have you lose control now. Not when being busted means death. I can still call for help. There's definitely a phone somewhere in this dump…_

She whirled around wildly, scanning the living room for a phone. And there was one, sitting on a large round and old-looking wooden table. It was her ticket out of here. If she could not bust herself out of there, then somebody else will.

Not wasting a second, she darted towards and phone, snatched up its corded speaker, and dialed 911…

* * *

Minutes later, Robbie Ray and Jackson arrived at the police station with absolutely no idea where to go or what to do.

"Well, it was your idea," Jackson said with a tone of humour. Robbie Ray snorted. He knew he was doing the right thing. He just didn't know the next step.

Awkward. So much for a father's intuition.

"Hey! Jackson! Mr. Stewart! What are you doing here?" someone called from the other end of the corridor. They were greeted by a pleasant surprise; it was Oliver Oken.

Well, at least we have something to do, Robbie Ray thought.

"Hey, Oliver! What are YOU doing here?" Jackson asked.

"Oh nothing, really, I'm just here to delivering some jerky to my mom. Why are you here?"

"I just came with my Dad. I don't why I'm here, but he does, so…"

"Hey, Lilly's here too. Why don't we hang out if you have nothing to do…"

"Sounds great, I…"

"Hey, Jackson! What are you doing here? Oh, and Oliver, your mom wants you, so you better hurry…"

"Thanks Lilly. Catch up with you guys in a sec…"

Robbie Ray wasn't listening. The sense was getting stronger. He could feel Miley's call for help louder than ever, and it took all the concentration he had to focus on it. Yes, it definitely was there. And it was real; she really was calling…

Any minute now…

"Uh, Mr. Stewart?" A voice jerked Robbie Ray out of his trance. Robbie Ray turned, feeling annoyed, to see who it was. The annoyance was replaced by surprise when he found himself standing right in front of Detective Cyrus Bruckner, the Seeker.

"I'd never imagine you'll be here, at the right time, this exact moment too," Cyrus said. "We've just received a distress call at the centre, and I think you must hear this…"

Robbie Ray followed Cyrus instinctively to the centre. A deathly silence fell on the three teenagers as they too, allowed him to lead them away.

* * *

"Put it on speaker," Detective Bruckner told the officer controlling a big answering-machine-like contraption. As the officer pressed a few buttons, Bruckner turned to Robbie Ray and said softly, "This could mean a breakthrough, Mr. Stewart. Listen carefully."

The answering machine buzzed. Bruckner called out at it, "Now, say it again. Who are you?"

A feeble, quavering voice answered, "M-my name is M-Miley Stewart."

Robbie Ray's heart was paralysed for a few seconds. The shock hit his head harder than he could take it within a moment.

"Miley Stewart, where are you now?"

"I don't know! I'm stuck in this house that I can't get out off, I'd been here for I-don't-know-how-long, and n-now I'm using the phone in the living room!" Miley stammered, hardly able to control her hiccups.

"Who's living room?" Bruckner demanded.

"Tyson Jones! Tyson Jones! He's the man who kidnapped me!"

"Who is with you? What is your present situation?"

"No one else's with me! That monster is out right now; I only just managed to sneak out and grab the phone. Any time now, he can just walk through the f-front door and b-bust me… PLEASE HELP ME! I DON'T WANT TO DIE HERE!!"

"Oh no…" Lilly gasped. Oliver and Jackson stood as still as statues, in horrified silence.

Miley's wailing from the other side of the call seemed to wake something in Robbie Ray. Before Detective Bruckner can say anything else, he ran up to the answering machine and yelled into it, "Miley! Miley! It's your Dad! I'm here!"

"D-D-Dad?"

"Yes, Miley! How're you doing? What did that son of a bitch do to you?!" Robbie Ray roared, tears springing into his eyes.

"Daddy, help me! I'm s-scared, Daddy!"

"I'm listening, Mile, I listening…"

"Daddy, I'm scared! That monster's tied me up in a dirty basement since I got here and beat me and raped me God-knows-how-many-times! He says he's going to kill me soon! I…I…I don't wanna die, Dad! I don't wanna die here!!"

Miley broke down on the other side of the phone, unable to keep speaking. Robbie Ray was in a state of very desperately controlled tears, feelings of helplessness welling up once more.

"Go on, Miss Stewart! Go on!" Detective Bruckner shouted, highly agitated. Miley was stuttering, choking on her own tears.

"I…I don't know how many t-t-times I'd been beaten a-and r-r-raped…He wants t-to kill me…I know it...he wants to k-k-kill us all…"

"Oh, Miley! My baby girl!" Robbie Ray cried, shaking with both despair and fury. "My poor little girl! What can I do for you!?"

Behind him, Lilly had laid her head on Oliver's shoulder and dissolved into tears of pity and empathy for her friend. Oliver let tears drip down Lilly's hair as he laid his head on hers. Jackson was still in a petrified state.

"Dad, I…"

Then another voice was heard from the other side. A rougher, louder, much more aggressive and angry voice.

"**HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING WITH THAT PHONE?!"**

Miley's voice turned desperate, rising to a scream.

"**DADDY! DADDY, HELP ME!! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!"**

"GET OFF THAT PHONE, YOU LITTLE…"

"NO, NO, GET OFF ME! DADDY, I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

"SAVE YOUR BREATH, YOU BLOODY BITCH!"

"HELP ME! PLEASE, HELP ME!"

"WRAAGH! YOU ASKED FOR IT!!"

"NO! GET OFF! NO!! **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!**"

"**SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"**

"**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!"**

Loud bangs and sounds of a struggle were heard from the other side, then the ominous monotone of a terminated phone call. The other phone had hung up.

Robbie Ray lost control and collapsed into a pile of tears, all his masculine emotional fortitude gone. Jackson, racking with sobs as well, helped his father up from the floor. As they tearfully embraced each other, the detective barked forcefully at his officers.

"Track that call immediately! Get the emergency assault squads ready! Mobilise all available patrol units! We must capture that criminal and save the girl! QUICKLY, WE HAVE LITTLE TIME LEFT!!"

* * *

Part one of the climax. Want to see more? Review, and anticipate. And, just to give you a little preview of the beginning of the next chapter:

"_Who did you call!?"_

"_Please, don't hurt me!"_

"_Shut up, girl!" Jones screamed, slapping Miley hard. "Who did you call!?"_

"_Don't kill me! Please, don't kill me!"_

"_Don't MAKE me kill you! How did you get out? WHO DID YOU CALL?"_

"_No…no one…I-I-I didn't c-call anyone…"_

"_LIAR!"_

_With that, he flung her on the ground and thrashed away…_

Want to see more? Review. Seriously.

Terrorking Tragedian


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